Page 78 of Crave
I pulled out a skillet, placed it on the stove and switched on the burner before adding butter and let it melt. My attention was divided, half focused on the doorway as I waited for Hargreaves to leave, the other part of my attention on the eggs I cracked into a bowl and whisked.
I rarely cooked for others, enjoying crafting a meal for myself. One that usually consisted of steak. But this was different. This was…purpose. Footsteps resounded. They were too light to be anyone who carried my genes, and they were too quick to be hers.
It was him.
Hargreaves scurried past as he headed for the front door. My fingers clenched against the bench as I stared at the pile of fluffy eggs on the plate in front of me. Goddamn lying bitch. I closed my eyes. Lying, fucking bitch with her goddamn boyfriend.
I didn’t understand why she affected me like this and I didn’t like it one little bit. Just keep to the plan, that’s all I have to do. I stared at the plate in front of me, then grabbed it along with a fork and strode to her room. The door was still open when I stopped.
I knocked softly. “It’s me.”
She turned when I entered, her gaze moved to the plate.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
She never spoke as I placed it on the desk along with the fork and straightened. But the way she looked at the food pissed me off. What, did she think I drugged it?
Movement came from the doorway behind me. Gabe’s presence was a lingering pressure at the back of my head. Always there. Haunting me everywhere I turned.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
No, he wasn’t haunting me. He was haunting her. Our sister.
“Anyway,” I muttered. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I turned and reached the doorway before she spoke.
“Thank you.”
Her words were so soft. Still, I gave a nod and walked out, passing Gabe as I left and headed for my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Stick with the plan. I gripped the back of my chair and stared at my laptop. That’s all I needed. I stick with the plan and this would all work out.
It had to.
There was no other way.
I pulled out the chair and logged into the server and sent a message to Sloane: any word on our problem?
I waited…but there was no reply.
What the fuck?
I typed again:Sloane?
Still, I waited and nothing.
I picked up the cell and called, listening to it ring and ring and ring.
This wasn’t like him. He didn’t not answer. I placed the phone down, staring at the empty screen. “Where the fuck are you?”
Cold air seeped in from somewhere, sending a shiver along my spine. The longer I stared at the silent cell, the more desperate I became. “First my parents, then my father fucks me with the will, and now this…”
It wasdark when I looked up from the laptop. I’d forced myself to work, going through the files of the Mexican Cartel of all things, trying to understand why someone broke into our goddamn system. All I found was records and records of just how fucking dangerous these men really were.
Murder for hire, guns and drugs…a lot of goddamn drugs.
There was no way around this.
I was fucked.
